


Just getting by

by AToneic



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F, Target AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 08:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7308058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AToneic/pseuds/AToneic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll be keeping tabs on you Marceline.” The infuriating manager said in a sing-song tone, before handing a bar-code scanner to her. “Re-mark the blue vase prices on aisle three, please.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just getting by

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy~
> 
> I couldn't stop thinking about this au ever since looking at Childofsquid's fanarts over on tumblr. Would love some critique on this work for the peops who are reading this. (Sorry for typos in advance)

To say that her alarm was ear-splittingly loud would be a complete understatement.

A disgruntled, shrilling scream of _shit!_ thundered throughout Marceline’s bedroom, pale arms outstretching from underneath a dishevelled quilt to reach for said alarm clock. There were a couple blind slams from her hand against the bedside table before she was successful, where successful meant she’d knocked it off the table and onto the wooden floor with a shatter.

Marceline groaned in disbelief, _was it really ten already?_ And after rubbing the sleep from her eyes, hesitantly she picked up the alarm. A moment of silence was necessary for the poor clock – there was a prominent crack straight through the center of the digital screen. It had some sort of sentimental value as it was one of the only things she’d brought to her new apartment. Nevertheless, it still read 23:12, not 22:00, and so suddenly Marceline late for her late shift. Which was funny in itself, as she’d actually been forced to take these shifts because of her lacking punctuality.

And there was no doubt Marceline would be fired if she missed the start of tonight’s shift; she was already on her fifth strike.

Legs clambered from the bed all too soon, and Marceline had _almost_ tripped at the awkward movement. But her socks forced her into a slip and stagger for balance instead, skidding right into the foot of the dresser. Surely this was more painful than being fired. After a few moments of silent screaming, Marceline grabbed her uniform; a belt, khaki pants and her Target shirt (the only shirt she ironed) before hopping strategically into bathroom.

Luckily, getting ready was actually Marceline’s most proficient part of the day, and those were definitely her father’s words. It was only because she took short cuts where possible, being exemplified now through her simultaneous, rigorous tooth brushing and hair combing. But really, multi-tasking was a myth, and after three short seconds Marceline could be seen jerking her comb violently out of her midnight tresses as her face contorted in agony. A quick flick of her hair always seemed to do her outfits justice anyhow; it’s not like people ran their fingers through it anyways.

_She didn’t look disgusting… just unkempt_ , Marceline decided after a quick wink at the mirror. She then shuffled into a pair of already-tied work shoes and raced out the door. Her keys jangled in her pocket as she scurried down the apartment stairs, each resounding clank a reminder of how she needs to make a complain about that out of order elevator. And the lobby’s out of order coke machine. And her out of order door bell.

It wasn’t pedal to the metal once she got into the car, she had _some_ decency to respect motor laws. But no one said she couldn’t drive five kilometres over the speed limit, and no one saw that red light she _safely_ drove by. In her defence, the light was totally yellow when she was crossing that intersection. Y _ep_ , _definitely_.

The last sprint was from the car park to the break room, where the magical clock-on note board resided. Marceline cursed under her breath, the first step out of her car was into a fucking puddle. She didn’t even realise it had rained until now, for God sakes. Her socks were sopping wet, and it felt extremely weird to run with that moist friction against her shoes. However, she didn’t slip on the tiled insides of Target, and that was almost consolation for her suffering.

Her heartbeat was hammering and her breathing erratic when she finally turned the knob to the breakroom’s “Authorised Personal Only” door.  The cramps in her stomach reminded her that maybe a regular jog in the park wouldn’t hurt her fitness, but then again, it’d definitely hurt her free time. She’d made the final stretch, or at least that’s what Marceline thinks, because the last time she checked, it was only 23:23. It was glorious triumph.

“I’m guessing you’re Marceline, right?” said a voice behind her, it was sly, presumptuous, and inhumanely sardonic. It was probably her manager, and this is probably the worse hour of her life. Cautiously, Marceline glanced right and left in her peripheral vision, searching desperately for a scape goat.

“N-No I’m not, but she’s always late so…” Marceline turned as she trailed off, keeping her head down and walking towards the door. She can clock-on at a later time, she just needed to run. Now. But the other girl had stood at the doorway, pointedly blocking her route.

“Would you mind moving?” She tried again, about to forcibly push past her. _This job is so much more important than that smart-ass manager’s._

“Your name tag says Marceline, dilweed.” Marceline glanced up to see a deadpanning girl with striking red hair which could not have been real. _Stupid, Stupid, Stupid,_ she chanted internally, instinctively looking down to where her own name badge laid. She’s never seen this manager in her entire three years working here, which she admits is quite disappointing.

“Hey-Hey, uh… please don’t fire me?”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. You have to be fifteen minutes late to receive a report. Didn’t you read the employee policy?” Marceline’s eyes were wide – of course she hadn’t, but she nodded anyways, awaiting one of those thirty minute lectures like the last time she was caught out. Was a quick slap on the wrist too much to ask for? But instead there was just a devious smirk, which probably entailed something way worse than a drawn out lecture.

“I’ll be keeping tabs on you Marceline.” The infuriating manager said in a sing-song tone, before handing a bar-code scanner to her. “Re-mark the blue vase prices on aisle three, please.”

Marceline grumbled a short _okay_ and headed out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> btw the I'm pretty sure the target au started on laurenzuke's tumblr, for those who don't know. ALSO you can msg me at http://atoneic.tumblr.com/


End file.
